Bad Blood
by Captain of the Quidditch Team
Summary: Elena Lancaster was a movie star before the world ended. Because of certain circumstances she ends up in Georgia all alone, or so she thought. She travels the state with Rick and the survivors. Along the way friendships and romances form, only to be torn apart by walkers. RATED M FOR LANGUAGE AND GRAPHIC SCENES.


I draw in a dry breath. Blood is pounding in my brain and I feel too weak to move. I turn over in the stale white bed to look at the sun outside my window. I don't remember getting here. Where even is here? It's a hospital, definitely. Flashes of the past events bombard my mind; a car accident, blood, screaming, and me. I take a sharp inhale and bolt up. Immediately regretting this, I lay back down and mull over the situation. Where is everyone? Why are the flowers dead and the 'get well' balloons littering the floor? It's clearly been a while since anyone has visited me... I gather my nerve and sit up again. The machines are down and the only light is streaming in from the window. I drape my legs over the side of the bed and pull the stereotypical IV out of my arm. Before I can think about getting up and wandering to find help, I hear a familiar squeak of rusty wheels in the hall.

"Nurse! Excuse me, I need some help." I call out hoarsely.

I continue to gaze through the window at nothing in particular when I hear my nurse enter my room. I turn to see a man, standing in the doorway with the same patient dress as me.

"You're not my nurse."

The man looked at me a moment to long for comfort and teetered on spot before answering, "No, no I'm not a nurse. But, I don't think there are any of them around right now. You can- You can come with me to find someone. I just got up too."

I sigh, what the hell happened to this place? "Fine, but... where am I?"

"King County, Georgia." I touched my bare feet to cold laminate tile and hissed. This is gonna be a long day. As soon as my weight was off the not-so-cushy-bed I fell to the floor and brought my morphine drip down with me. "Ughhhhh."

"If it makes you feel better, I fell too." My new companion commented in his southern drawl.

I just laid my cheek down on the icy ground and huffed, "It really doesn't." Eventually I crawled back to my bed for support and lifted myself onto my feet. Then I followed the man out the door when I felt strong enough to take on whatever lies ahead. I trail behind the stranger into even stranger territory, a darkened and desolate hospital inhabited by two. Lights flickered and buzzed, but they did not provide enough to work with. We hobbled over the a reception desk and shuffled through papers and pins to find something of use.

"Check the phone." He rasped. I did as he said and there was only silence on the other line. My new friend found a pack of matches in a slotted basket full of useless office supplies.

"Think we can find our way out with those?"

"Let's hope so." I've noticed he wasn't a conversationalist. Alas we stumbled on, and like moths we traveled toward the lighted corridor. I peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of what looked like a corpse. I gasp and avert my eyes. "What the hell! Why is there a body in the middle of a freaking hallway?"

My partner in crime gave a horrified look and turned the opposite direction. The next hallway we traipsed was falling apart. Bullet holes were spattered across the walls and it makes me wonder what went down while I was out. Mr. Man was slightly ahead of me and standing in front of the cafeteria doors. They were shut tight and had 'Don't Dead Open Inside' spray painted in black.

"What kind of fucking riddle is this? Is this some psychological test?" I ask, mainly to myself as my friend here doesn't seem to be interested in what I have to say. My thoughts were broken into by groaning and the doors opening slightly ajar. Beardy backed up and bumped into me, together we watched fingers slip through the cracks. Moans got louder, and my friend and I hurriedly hobbled to the closest exit.

It was pitch black in the stairwell we'd chosen as our escape route. It was the box of matches' time to shine. Literally. Carefully we made our way down the steps, lighting matches whenever their predecessors went out. I reached the bottom first and pressed the bar on our last obstacle. Blinding light poured in and the sound of cicadas filled my ears. That joy of mine didn't last long. When I regained my vision the stench that had previously attacked my nose was explained. Piles upon piles of corpses rested on the pavement.

"Oh God. I can't..." I gag. If I had anything in my stomach it would have made a reappearance. Beardy was looking around in shock. "Um, let's just keep going..." I console placing an awkward hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Friend. We're not out yet." He was silent, and I followed him.

\1/

Sometime later we found two abandoned bikes. They were stacked next to half of a rotten body laying in a patch of dirt. I thought no more of it, I'd seen many bodies since I woke up, but this one moved. This dead person moved. It outstretched its arms and growled at us. Half of the poor thing's face was shredded and it had its innards dragging behind it as it crawled toward us. I gasped and the man stumbled in shock. "Hey, get up. We have to go. Like now!" I order at my seemingly incompetent companion as I mount my own bike and push off. He mimicked my actions shakily.

\1/

Beardy jumped off his transport, leaped onto some lush green grass, and bolted into an unlocked home. I quickly followed suit, as I did not want to be alone in this confusing world.

"Lori, Lori! Carl, Carl! Lori! Carl!" He yelled, running through the house like a madman. He wept and screamed names of people I have never heard of. I felt useless and intrusive. I let him continue like this until he got violent. He smacked himself and was whispering things like "Am I here?"

I caught his hand before he could land another blow. "Hey! Stop it, hurting yourself isn't helping anything! Let me help you!" When he finally calmed down I continued. "What's your name? I'm Elena Lancaster."

"My name is Rick Grimes." He mutters.

I look into his wet blue eyes and say, "Okay, Rick. Let's go outside and get some fresh air. It's kinda stuffy in here, don'tcha think? You can tell me about Lori and Carl, too."

I hold onto his arm and help him up and out to the sidewalk. We plop down on the steps and before he can begin a man clad in black shuffles toward us.

Rick waved and watched as he came closer. I felt something off about this predicament. Snap! Clang! I whip around to see a young boy with a shovel and Rick on his back.

"Daddy, Daddy!" He screamed as Rick mumbles more about Carl.

"Hey! You little... What the hell?" Then the little asshole had the nerve to swing at me. My body jumped at the sound of a gunshot and I spun on the spot. A middle aged man with similar features to the kid behind me shot the man in the street dead and strode toward us. I speedily moved to stand over Rick- hopefully he wasn't looking up my hospital gown- to protect him. The stranger was upon us and started scolded the kid.

"Ma'am, is your friend bit?"

I gave a look of utter confusion. "What?"

"Bit. Is he bit, or scratched? Lotta' stuff can do it." He slurs in a southern accent, getting angrier by the second and points a gun at Rick's head. God, I must be in Georgia... "What's that bandage for?"

This time Rick leans up partially and asks, "What?"

"Your wound! Answer me damn you! What's your wound?" He pulls the hammer back and says, "You tell me or I will kill you."

"Back up! You can't just go around killing people! Just leave us alone!" I demand and bend down to see Rick passed out on the pavement.

Eventually the man convinced me he meant no harm and that he could help and protect us until Rick was well again. On the way to the house I found his name to be Morgan, and the boy was his son, Duane. We carried Rick to a nearby house and I laid him on a bed in an upstairs bedroom, Morgan insisted on tying him to it. Everyone else was buzzing around locking down the fort, while I fished through a small first aid kit. My companion's bandage was getting pretty rank so I changed it and thanked the Lord that it wasn't this infamous 'bite' Morgan was talking about. While there was nothing else to do I went to the bathroom to clean myself up. I looked like a hot mess. I acquired some scissors to cut out some old stitches on my forehead. I unlaced them carefully to reveal an ugly scar following the edge of my hairline. It was small and easily covered, but my face will be forever marred by an event that left me alone.

In a separate, dimly lit room Rick came to, and Duane tightened his grip on a baseball bat. To break the tension I stepped in between them and spoke up, "Your wound... It's not a bite wound. What is it?"

"Gunshot."

"Gunshot? What else? Anything?" Morgan butted in.

Rick lifted his head and looked at him incredulously, "Gunshot ain't enough?"

"Look, I ask and you answer. It's common courtesy, right?" The man leaned in closer, "Did you get bit?

"Bit?"

"Bit, chewed, maybe scratched. Anything like that?" Never losing eye contact the men continued talking.

"No, I got shot. Just shot as far as I know."

I scoffed, "As far as you know. We've been in comas for however long it's been, and we don't know shit about what's happened."

Morgan felt Rick's forehead with little to no resistance. "Feels cool enough. Fever would've killed you by now."

"I don't think I have one."

"Be hard to miss." Morgan pulled out a small knife, "Take a moment, both of ya, look how sharp it is. You try anything, I will kill you with it. And don't you think I won't."

He cut Rick's wrists free from the bed posts. "Come on out when you're able." He then directed a "Come on." to Duane as well.

That left me standing, quite awkwardly, in the middle of a room with a dazed and confused man.

"I'll um... I'll let you be alone." I stutter then walk out of the bedroom. I needed to be alone too, this day was a lot to process. All the peculiar sights like the death and murder and all this talk of biting. What has the world come to since I've been gone?


End file.
